


coup d'état

by monsoons



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, M/M, Plant-Based Milk Discourse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsoons/pseuds/monsoons
Summary: It seems like too much to take, except he can see already see the answer in Jeno's eyes, in the curl of his lips. The challenge, wrapped in an innocuous gesture.And god damn it if Mark doesn't aim to please.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Mark Lee
Comments: 8
Kudos: 106





	coup d'état

It shouldn't be important, the way it happens, but it matters to Mark.

"Because everything matters to you," Donghyuck points out. His fingers tap against their empty carton of oat milk, still spiteful that Mark had passed over his preferred brand of almond milk because of an article Jeno had sent him about the environmental impact of almond milk production. "You're a fucking sap."

"Am not," Mark mutters, stirring his coffee.

"Are too," and that's Mark's cue to close his mouth because deep down, he knows Donghyuck is right.

All his life, Mark Lee has been one big, bleeding-heart romantic sap. Blame it on the dramas he would binge with his mom afterschool, his blip of a musical career that was performing a Plain White T's song at his fifth grade talent show, the fact he always hated his cousin Jaehyun just a little bit for getting all the Valentine glory ("Valentine's boy? Now that's a little bit much," he'd bristled when 14 year old Donghyuck had asked him to stuff a box of chocolates in Jaehyun's locker on his behalf)— every excuse could not change the fundamental fact that at his core, Mark believes in  _ romance. _

And for Mark,  _ romance _ comes with rules. Bases too, like baseball, where your foot has to touch every slab of rubber on the field until you could reach homeroom. A meet-cute, a first date, a second date. Not putting out until the third. The kind of romance Donghyuck calls "pretentiously Boomer" and Jaemin calls "respectfully Jane Austen", but Mark just considers to be warm. Steady. The kind of romance that simmers, a small flame stoked into a grand fireplace.

Not a 2 a.m. dumpster fire started by stray cigarette ash in a back alley, a wildfire growing in the wake of one oat-milk-loving Jeno Lee.

  
  
  


It shouldn't be important, the way it happens, but it happens like this:

"I want to suck your dick," Jeno says, point blank.

They're standing in the corner of a downtown club, the drink in Mark's hand partially emptied, and Mark nearly trips over his own feet when a couple stumbling out of the bathroom jostles past him. He flushes when he feels Jeno's arms around his shoulders, steadying him.

"Uh, what?" Mark half-laughs, half chokes out.

Jeno steps back, his eyes bottomless under the strobe lights, and smiles. "Mark Lee, I think you're really hot and I want to suck your dick. Preferably in a bathroom stall over there, but I'm open to suggestions." He hesitates, for a second, observing the way Mark has fallen silent (or maybe the way his eye is twitching, as it's prone to sometimes when he's under intense stress? Mark couldn't be sure.)

"No pressure," Jeno adds.

"Sure," Mark croaks out.

No pressure.

Except, it's a lot to take in when he trails after Jeno into the bathroom and locks the door, and he's hit with the brunt of being this close to Jeno, almost chest-to-chest. He can smell Jeno's cologne, something sweet and spicy as he steps closer to Mark, hands sliding up his shoulders.

"Tell me if I should stop," Jeno murmurs.

Mark opens his mouth, wondering where he should start. One month ago, when he'd sat down in the seat Jaemin had saved for him in their snore-fest philosophy class and turned around to see the hoodie-clad, glasses-wearing boy of his dreams? Last week, when he'd been plotting out the best way to ask Jeno on a date, only to be interrupted mid-speech (to Chenle on why he shouldn't just slide into Jeno's DMs with a  _ hey sexy wanna get sexy together)  _ by Jeno plopping his coffee cup on the lounge room table and asking, "Hey, what are you guys up to?"

The words jumble in his mouth, and at last, he settles for swallowing them all down.

"Don't stop," Mark says instead, and watches as Jeno slides down onto the floor, his hands falling to rest on the side of Mark's hips.

It becomes a practice in patience then. Patience, to not lose his fucking mind, when Jeno's fingers deftly undo his belt buckle and his mouth brushes against the swell of Mark's cock through his boxers like this is something sentimental, like he's not on his knees in a dingy bathroom stall in a soon to be occupied bathroom.

Then the action starts. Like an online lecture played on double time, Jeno's hands make quick work, yanking down Mark's boxer, palming his semi. Mark groans, already feeling that lighter spark in his gut, before he catches himself, flushing. Is he being overeager? Embarrassingly naive?

“You’re overthinking this, aren’t you.”

Mark jerks back to attention as Jeno circles his fingers around Mark’s girth.

“What?”

“Donghyuck said you might overthink this,” Jeno says and oh my god. It should be illegal for Jeno to look that cute as he’s staring up at Mark through his lashes, pouted lips just inches away from the head of Mark’s cock.

“I’m—“ Mark stutters, too entranced by the obscene sight of Jeno to linger on whatever Donghyuck’s involvement with this can be. “No, no, I’m not.”

Jeno’s pout disappears into a smile. “Good,” he says, before leaning forward to take Mark in his mouth.

If Mark’s had any second thoughts or dwindling resolve, well, they immediately fall off the map of his mind. Landmarks like  _ what if someone comes in _ and  _ oh my god did I just hear the door hinges creak _ and  _ why is this wall vaguely damp _ are smudged away by the persistent heat of Jeno’s mouth. The world reorients, valleys and hills and oceans reduced to a pinpoint focus on the searing sensation of Jeno's tongue working around Mark's cock, that delicious, sinful friction.

"Fuck," Mark groans, head falling back against the stall. His hands clamor for something to hold on, anything to keep him stumbling to the ground. The last thing he expects is Jeno's grip on his wrist, guiding Mark's hand to rest on Jeno's crown.

Mark stills, for a moment, and looks down. It seems like too much to take, except he can already see the answer in Jeno's eyes, in the curl of his lips around Mark's shaft. The challenge, wrapped in an innocuous gesture.

And god damn it if Mark doesn't aim to please.

A moan falls from Jeno's lips the second Mark cards his fingers into Jeno's inky hair and  _ yanks _ . There's an echo effect, the vibration of Jeno's moan as he continues to suck Mark’s cock. Mark hisses, pleasure clamping down in his gut, and digs his fingers in harder.

"You're so good," he mumbles, erratic praises spilling out of him like desperate hymns. In turn, Jeno only moves faster, head bobbing up and down, his fingers stroking every centimeter of skin his mouth doesn't.

To Mark, the minutes span decades, centuries, a lifetime and a half. It's impossible, really, to not get lost in the heady warmth of Jeno's mouth, time dethroned by the pulling waves of pleasure. Then Jeno pulls off, lips spit-slick, and Mark would almost feel disappointed at the sudden lack of content if not for:

"Can you fuck my mouth? Like, hard?"

Mark nods, eager and casual, as if Jeno had just asked him to change a lightbulb. "Yeah," he gulps. "Of course."

And like a dutiful neighbor, he does. Jeno swallows him again, and Mark wastes no time in gripping his hand on the back of Jeno's head and thrusting forward. It takes an active effort on his half to balance and not keel over when he hits the back of Jeno's throat, the sensation of Jeno's moan enough to tip him over if not for Jeno's vice grip on Mark's thighs.

So, Mark stays on his feet and fucks into Jeno's mouth like he means it. In and out, each time sending an intensifying spark straight to his gut. He vaguely registers Jeno's hand moving to palm himself through his jeans and it's the thought of Jeno's unattended pleasure that makes his eyes flutter open to look down.

Rookie mistake. The sight of Jeno deals Mark a fatal blow, like the air has been punched from his lungs. His hair is a crow's nest, styling products be damned, and his pupils are blown out, lashes wet and tears forming at the corner of his eyes. He looks wrecked and gorgeous and it's enough, selfishly, for the spark in Mark's gut to explode.

"I'm gonna come," Mark gasps but Jeno just smiles and swallows it all down, not leaving a single drop.

Fuck.

When Mark comes to, he feels like he's stepped off a rollercoaster, his head still lost in the heights, the mid-point thrill of the drop. He watches, dazed, as Jeno hoists himself up to his feet, chest grazing against Mark's body for support.

"Do you want me to—" Mark starts, words immediately dying in his throat when Jeno drops a shy kiss against his cheek.

"Later," Jeno promises. He watches as Mark fumbles with his own zippers, those deliciously puffy lips curling into a smile, and reaches forward to smooth down the lapels of Mark's jacket.

Mark opens his mouth, searching for the right words to say next, but Jeno beats him to the punch. 

"Do you want to get lunch with me next weekend?"

Mark just nods, not trusting his mouth to form coherent words.

"It's a date," Jeno says, grinning, then exits the stall, leaving Mark with shaking legs and a racing heart.

  
  
  


"— _ hellllloooo, _ Earth to Mark Lee."

Mark jumps, dropping his spoon. The silver handle clinks against the rim of his mug and sends droplets of coffee onto the white kitchen counter.

Donghyuck crosses his arms. "Did you hear anything I just said? Or were you too busy remembering about how you got your dick wet?"

"Sorry, what were you saying?" Mark mumbles, springing for the kitchen towel to mop up the spill.

"I said, for the love of my lactose intolerance,  _ please  _ buy almond milk next time," Donghyuck sighs. He drops the empty oat milk carton into the sink and unscrews the cap, before turning on the faucet. "And no, I don't give a shit if Jeno told you it's bad for the environment. I should've known before I got you two nerds together that it would come back to bite me in the ass."

A protest forms on the tip of Mark's tongue, but he's interrupted by a dinging notification from his phone.

**_jeno_ **

_ are we still on for a lunch date tomorrow? ^^ _

Mark can't help the grin that spreads on his face as he types out his response, even when Donghyuck pretends to gag into the sink.

Because in the grand scheme of things, it's not really important, the way it happens. What matters to Mark, what matters more, is what's to come.

**Author's Note:**

> ao3 user monsoons continuing their gremlin ways of writing porn in dubious settings ._.
> 
> anyways i saw that markno t*kt*k and then this happened


End file.
